


The Omega Prince

by Kiki9627



Category: Fire Emblem: Soen no Kiseki/Akatsuki no Megami | Fire Emblem Path of Radiance/Radiant Dawn
Genre: Alpha Ike, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, M/M, Rarepair, ashnard is an ass, omega soren
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-30
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2020-02-10 03:36:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18652105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiki9627/pseuds/Kiki9627
Summary: The Daein King demands an alpha for an heir and his only son will provide.Co-written with LadySavrola





	1. "my dad is trying to pick guys for me to fuck is this normal?"

**Author's Note:**

> This is an omega-verse and an AU where Soren is never abandoned by Ashnard and Zelgius never met Lehran. The story begins roughly a year before the first game. This puts Ike at roughly 15, Soren at roughly 14 1/2 to 15, and Zelgius to ??? but looking about 20.
> 
> This is co-written with my friend LadySavrola over on Tumblr.
> 
> Chapter titles provided by LadySavrola
> 
> Enjoy!

“There is a way you can be of use to me, Soren,” the king hadn't even lifted his eyes from the gleam of sunlight bouncing off of swords below.

Soren felt like the hairs standing up on the back of his neck never could lay flat when he stood in the presence of his father -- and they'd been standing together in unacknowledged silence for at least ten minutes before the king had even spoken.  Knowing better than to risk an interjection, the prince kept his calm demeanor steady like the surface of a pond as a silent invitation for his father to continue.

“You were born an omega,” he finally spoke again, “A sad, weak creature.  But necessary. You may not be able to rule, but you can produce a ruler. For me, and for Daein.”

“Yes, Father.” Relaxing his jaw, he knew better than to grit his teeth even at the harshest words.  He'd heard them before anyway.

“You'll soon enter into your heat,” he continued, and Soren inhaled and held it there.  How did he know? How many fathers elsewhere spoke so plainly of such things? “Is that correct, or are your retainers mistaken?”

“They are not.”

“Do this for me, my son.  Tonight I will have you escorted to the quarters of whichever alpha wins the tournament.  You may introduce yourself then, for when the time is right you will bear his child. Make it a strong alpha, for the future of your country.”

Soren had spent so much of his life gritting his teeth behind a firm smile, but this? It took all he had in him not to vomit into the pot of flowers beside him.  He peered out over the railing and momentarily regarded the two fighters who had claimed the ring for a practice round. They were brutes, yelling in delight at every wound their flesh endured and dancing around one another like hyenas around a carcass.  Perhaps they were some form of tailless, wingless sub-human. Beasts -- only holding a human form. He shuddered.

When King Daein asked for something, however, he was never truly asking.  And even for the one and only prince, there was only one possible answer.

“Yes, your majesty.”

Satisfied with the answer, the king departed and left his son alone to his thoughts, filled with answerless questions.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed when a gentle hand rested on his shoulder and a voice murmured in his ear, “It is time to go prepare for the tournament.  Your father eagerly awaits the results."

Soren sighed and wrapped his robes tighter around himself.  "Yes, Bryce. Let us go."

\--

"And what is that one for?"

"This one? It makes your eyes stand out.  You look so lovely in red, your highness."

Soren grimaced through his makeup into the mirror.  "And what happens if I start to sweat?"

"You mustn't do that, your highness.  You'll look like an oil painting melting in the sun!"

Bryce offered him only a shrug at the long-suffering look he was shot.  Soren supposed he wore about as much makeup as he himself did on the regular.

"The one on my cheeks is itchy."

"Do you know what my older sister used to tell me?" The girl, whoever they'd sent up from wherever she came from, trilled like a songbird.  "She used to say, 'beauty is pain'."

"I think I'd rather be ugly."

"You couldn't if you tried, your highness!" And with that, she rolled her paints and powders and various brushes up into her rolled cloth and made for the door.  "Remember, beauty is pain!"

There was a moment of quiet that hung in the air as the prince and his retainer both searched for the right words to say -- if there were any.  Soren leaned forward towards the mirror again and ran his fingers over his forehead, for the first time in his life seeing himself without the brand hanging there.  He wasn't quite sure what he felt in that moment, but it could have been pain.

"You look like your mother," Bryce said.

Soren stood and brushed the traces of powder off of his robes.  "With all Father says about her, that might be considered an insult."

"It isn't, coming from me."

Soren simply frowned back at him before reaching his hand out.  "Escort me down, if you would."

\---

It appeared that the time spent 'beautifying' himself (where had that girl even  _ come from _ ?) had made them both late to the tournament.  The king had already gotten to the point where all else around him had melted away and all that was left was the gore and swordplay -- he barely noticed when Soren slid down into the chair to his right and reached for a roll.

"You're late." 

The king wasn't as blind as Soren had thought, then.  Zelgius seemed detached and bored standing on the opposite side of them, but he did glance over; perhaps out of curiosity for whatever excuse Soren could spit out, "Yes, your majesty, my apologies --"

"Not needed.  Would you like to place a wager?"

Soren glanced back to the arena; a heavily wounded man was trying and failing to keep his sword raised.  He finally let it hit the ground so that he could gasp out another few breaths, and his opponent stepped towards him with all the confident ease of a predator about to execute its prey.

"This match seems to already be won," he chuckled.

"No no, not the match.  The tournament."

With a deep breath Soren focused in on the bars that ran along the back of the arena -- nothing particularly unusual in there, really.  One man knelt in prayer in the far corner of his cell; two men with axes stood at the front cheering or booing as the wounded man fell to the blade.

Soren shook his head.  His expertise had never been swordplay, and every bet he'd taken against his father for such a thing, he'd lost (everything from his favorite jewelry to a bit of his dignity, working in the kitchens for a day.  After the 4th burnt chicken they'd let him sulk back to his quarters).

It was his father's specialty to weed out the strongest, after all.  Bryce leaned in beside him and cleared his throat; "Your highness."

"Mm."

"If I were in your place, my wager would be squarely on the Crimean in the last cell."

"The one with the blue hair? … he certainly looks calm."

"His technique was impeccable when I saw his practice rounds earlier.  He's been professionally trained, I can assure you."

"Hm.  Alright." They'd dressed him up truly to the hilt, and the jingle of the bracelets as he lifted his hand made him want to groan.  "My wager is on the Crimean. The only one that isn't fiendishly ugly."

"So single-minded," Ashnard tsked.  "I'll place my bet on the berserker in the middle cell.  You had best hope I lose this time -- that one could crush you, my boy."

"He could try," Soren watched the next two gates fall open with a sip of his wine -- Zelgius stifled a laugh on the far side of the king and he took an extra gulp to hide his smile and his nerves.

Out of the far cell stumbled his Crimean, looking dazed in the light of the braziers.  His eyes were as deep blue as his hair, and they were wide and panicked as he looked out across the line of spectators.  Soren regarded him through his wine glass for a moment, until that gaze rested firmly on him.

A prince was not to let his composure fall under any circumstances, but in that moment Soren tightened his grip on his glass and stared back down into those blue eyes, focusing on one thought as though thinking it hard enough could transfer it to the simple swordsman in the ring:

_ Don't. Die. _

If the Crimean heard the message, he accepted it, and slid his leg back until he was firmly in his fighting stance.

Ashnard chuckled.  "Is that stance as familiar to you as it is to me, Zelgius?"

"It's just like General Gawain," said with a quiet reverence, enough even to make Bryce nod in agreement.

"An omega could never appreciate the power behind a man like Gawain," Ashnard explained, and Soren downed the rest of his wine quickly.  "He was absolutely legendary. Let us see how his fighting style has lived on."

Whatever sort of man this Gawain had been, if the Crimean had only half his strength it served him well; just as they'd finished speaking, the first of his opponents had fallen.  He turned to face the second of three and without an instant of hesitation ran him straight through with the dull blade he'd been given.

Soren sat up tall in his chair as the prospect of a bet won against his father loomed.

Quiet fell over the crowd as the last axe wielder remained.  He decided to use the swordsman's technique against him and rushed forward, swung with all his might, and with a  _ thud _ hit nothing but dirt.

He tugged against the handle of his axe, a monstrous feat even for a berserker like him, only freezing when the Crimean pressed his blade to his throat and paused --

One single tear ran down the face of the berserker.  The swordsman inhaled, said something to him, something soft that might not have even carried over the sound of the blood pounding in their ears, and slit his throat in a single motion.

The crowd jumped up in a mighty uproar -- with no more enemies left to fight, the warrior threw his blade to the ground.

With his father's champion left bleeding into the mud, Soren picked up his robes and went to make for the fighters' cells.

Ashnard saluted him and held high a fresh cup of wine.  "Congratulations. Perhaps you'll survive the courtship after all.  Now let's see some results, mm?"


	2. Too Bad, I Fucked Another Guy (Goodbye, Self Esteem) by Fall Out Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Smut ahead

Soren fidgeted in his champion’s room, adjusting his robes and hair. Warmth crept through his veins and he knew it wasn’t nerves. Of all the cruel things the king could plan, planning the tournament on the day of his coming heat had to make the top of the list.

The door to the room creaked open and in stepped the blue haired Crimean. Those blue eyes bore holes into the floor as he stepped in, burning with such anger. When he finally looked up, those eyes began to bore holes into Soren.

“Who the hell are you?” His voice came out smoother and softer than Soren expected but no less vexing.

“Who the hell are  _ you _ ?” Soren’s brow furrowed as he squared his shoulders.

The Crimean grunted before moving further into the room and past the prince.

“Ike.” He plopped on his bed and tore his boots off, tired as the dead. “Not that you probably give two figs.”

“I am Soren, prince of Daein.”

Ike looked up to see pursed ruby lips and annoyed ruby eyes. The smell of the prince’s heat was obvious enough but it only served as a small distraction from his own annoyance.

“Are  _ you  _ the reason I’m here?”

“I am the Champion’s prize. Aside from a room in the palace, you’re given the great honor of producing Daein an heir.” Soren kept his face as neutral and calm as he could, despite his body trying its best to submit to the nearest alpha. Even if the Crimean is a brute, they’re child would be pretty.

“You mean like a courtship?” Ike finally turned to face Soren, not truly believing what he was being told.

“No.” Soren’s frown only deepened. “This arrangement is not about attachment. Daein needs a strong alpha for an heir. You will stay until that goal is achieved. After that, I suppose you could ask the council if you may return home.”

Ike could only laugh at the absolute absurdity.

“I’m not about to have a child with somebody I just met.” Those blue locks swayed as he shook his head. “And even if I would be willing to have a baby with you, I’m not just going to abandon it.”

“You seem to think you get an opinion in the matter.” Soren huffed with a smirk, adjusting his neckline subconsciously. “The king will not just accept your refusal.”

“I don’t need the king’s permission.” Blue eyes flashed at him with the same anger as before, “Get out.”

“Who exactly do you thinking you’re talking to?” Soren would’ve gaffed if it weren’t so beneath him.

“A bratty prince.”

Heat rushed to Soren’s face as he fumed.

“At least I’m not some ignorant brute that doesn’t even know why he participated in a tournament.” Soren stormed out of the room and down the hall to his own chambers. 

Once the door was slammed shut, he immediately went to work on scrubbing the makeup off and practically ripped his clothes off. Hot tears threatened to fall but he wouldn’t lose this much of his dignity.

“My prince,” Zelgius’ voice, while muffled by the door, was filled with concern, “Are you okay? May I enter?”

“Yes.” Soren dabbed his eyes with the cuff of his undershirt and took a deep breath. “You may enter.”

“Your highness,” he sighed at the prince’s state: half dressed, on the verge of tears, and with waves of heat radiating off of him, “Did the Crimean harm you? Did you…”

“No. To both. He refused.”

“I am sorry.” Zelgius bowed his head before stepping closer, “He didn’t even scent you?”

Soren furiously shook his head as tears began to escape his iron grasp. His anguish was clear in the aroma that clung to his skin. A fierce protectiveness in Zelgius sprang up at the sight of his charge in such pain.

“Fuck me.” Soren’s voice was small but just as firm as ever. “My Champion wants nothing to do with me. My father wants an alpha for an heir. Zelgius, I’m ordering you to fuck me.”

“Your highness.” Zelgius took a step back from him with a deep sigh. “You know my feelings on the matter. I’m not comfortable with taking you for the first time when you’re being driven by your heat.”

“What’s the real reason Zelgius?” Soren sneered at him before throwing himself onto his bed. “It’s because of my damned brand. Isn’t it? Am I too strange to look at? You have some woman elsewhere that you don’t want to know you scent me?”

“No, you-” He took a step forward but his advance was met with a pillow being launched at him.

“Why is it perfectly fine for you to rub your scent all over me but you refuse to actually claim me? I’m in anguish Zelgius!” Before the knight could properly respond, Soren shoved his face into another pillow and screamed.

Zelgius stood by the prince’s side as he cried, allowing him to get as much out of his system before risking being hit with more than the decor.

“Do you still want me to scent you?” His tone was as soft as a hardened knight could manage. When the only response he received was a nod, Zelgius moved slightly onto the bed to get to the prince’s scent gland.

Soren rolled over to give him more ease but not without laying sweet kisses on his ear and whispering hotly.

“No one will blame you,” Soren’s voice came out like silken honey, “If anything, I like to think they’ll be jealous.”

“Trust me, they would be.” Zelgius laid a small kiss on the prince’s shoulder and moved away just enough to hold eye contact.

“Then why won’t you mate me?” The desperation that chilled Zelgius was back in Soren’s voice and it broke his heart.

“This is a terrible idea.”

The words were lost on Soren when their mouths connected and Zelgius tasted the prince more than he ever dared to hope he would. Soren moaned under him as he hardened and his knight moved further onto the bed.

Tender fingers traced their way up Soren’s milky thighs while he gently tugged on navy blue locks.

“Don’t be afraid to be rough.” Soren’s smirk egged Zelgius on as his lips left the prince’s to travel down his throat and to his collarbone. He ground their hips together and sucked on that porcelain skin while Soren’s nimble fingers did away with the buttons and lacing of their clothing.

The second Zelgius’ dick was free, he sought out Soren’s soaking hole.

“Wait.” Muscled arms held the knight far enough away from his needy prince that he could think straight for a second. “Wait. This is...your first  _ encounter _ . Right?”

“Yes and it’s really your fault.” Soren nearly pouted at the loss of contact, his body shook and writhed without meaning to. “Now fuck me.”

“I want to make sure you enjoy it.” Zelgius gently kissed those rosen lips and then that cute chin and all the way down to the prince’s soaking entrance. His tongue lapped at Soren’s spread thighs and hard member. The response he elicited was beautiful and encouraged him to continue. He sought out the sweetness that dripped from the prince and pressed his tongue into his entrance.

Soren gasped and moaned as he pulled Zelgius in deeper by his hair. He quivered when Zelgius added a single thick finger and continued to lick and suck whatever caught his fancy.

“Zelgius! Ah-” What he was about to say was lost to him when a second finger slid in and began to stretch him.

“Is it good?” The only response Soren managed was an airy moan and a shaky nod as his hips rocked to chase those fingers. “I think you’re actually ready now.”

“Then do it!” His chest rose and fell rapidly and nervousness hid in his confident stare.

Zelgius kissed his cheek and stroked his jaw while he was knuckle deep in the prince.

“If it hurts or I need to slow down, tell me.” Their eyes locked for a moment before Soren pulled him into an open mouth kiss. Their tongues wrestled but Zelgius quickly relented and welcomed Soren to explore him before he ended the kiss with a swift bite on his knight’s lower lip.

“Don’t slow down until I tell you to. Now. Fuck me.”

Zelgius removed his fingers and gathered one of the prince’s legs, holding the knee in the crook of his arm while he pressed his dick against that steaming entrance. Inch by velvety inch, he pressed himself into the prince.

“Is it okay? Are you comfortable?” He could barely handle the image of his prince so full. Dark hair haloed his face and his jaw hung down as he gasped for a response.

“So good,” Soren sighed, a smile resting on his face, “How dare you make your prince wait this long. When are you going to follow my orders? I want you-”

Zelgius pulled himself out to the head and swung his hips back into the prince’s. When the prince’s response was a moan and airy laugh, he did it again. Within a few seconds, he set a brutal pace and pounded the prince into the mattress, one hand clinging to the headboard to keep his balance.

His own instincts were pulsing and he could barely resist the urge to mark the outstretched neck beneath him. Before he could make the mistake of claiming the prince, he grabbed a thick pillow and stuck it between his teeth. He rested his head next to the prince’s and listened to the beautiful sound of his howling moans.

Soren came without any more warning than a quickened moan. Zelgius followed in the next thrust, groaning into the pillow in his teeth while he swelled inside the prince.

“How...dare you...make me wait so damn long.” Soren gasped as his legs turned to jelly.


	3. Soren is a sore loser, and boy does he lose a lot

When sunlight first broke over the windowsill and interrupted the early-morning doze Soren had been resting in, he quite nearly growled.  It was unwelcome, and the moment he began regaining consciousness he regretted it.

It was like waking up still drunk from the night before; he still felt like he was floating, the walls still seemed distant and unreal.  But his drunken state was all too familiar, and all natural.

It was the beginning of his heat.

The annoyance at being woken quickly gave way to the itch of need, clawing at his belly.  He was lucky to still get this moment of clear headedness -- his heats always came on hard and fast, always at the wrong time and place.  They were predictable in their unpredictability that way; but it wasn't going to be very long before he would be forced to give way to the full extent of his nature.

With a groan he turned and rolled over to his other side.

The haze was still on him like a warm blanket enough that when he first saw black lines, smooth and curling like cursive words atop white paper, he didn't question what they were or where they came from.  His hand found its way onto them, the pads of his fingers following their meandering waves to their tips and back again.

He blinked the sleep out of his eyes.

He was touching not a letter, but a person.  And the black lines were not words but a brand.

Then that person tensed, flinched, and scrambled away from him in an instant.  He hit the floor hard and without grace and knocked the wind out of himself.

Still in a haze and unperturbed, Soren propped himself up on his elbows and looked down over the edge of the bed.  "Zelgius."

A swallow.  Curt. As if he wasn't lying naked and fully exposed on the palace floor.  "Your highness."

"We're a little past 'your highness' now."

"I -- should leave."

"Mm, too late."

There was deathly silence in the room for ages -- the two sized up each other and their situation, though Soren was deep enough in his own natural drugged state to only briefly consider the moment before moving on to what was to come after it.  "Come here."

"That would be a bad idea."

A drunken grin.  Soren pulled the blanket further over his goosebumped arms.  "I've never seen you so nervous." Zelgius reached for his clothes, grasped them like a lifeline and started to slide into his trousers -- that was enough to trigger near-panic.  "What? You can't go!"

"I can," His tunic was on backwards, he slid on his gloves in a panic himself -- "And I will.  I'm sorry, your highness."

"I order you to stay here." Remembering the power he had, the prince sat up in bed.  Smug.

"I -- can't." Zelgius stepped into his boots, didn't lace them, and made for the door.  "In three days, you'll thank me. From the bottom of your heart, you'll thank me."

The slamming of the door came as a shock and made the prince jump -- this didn't process in his brain for a few moments, until he heard urgent murmuring from a pair of servant girls just outside the door.

All around him, the heat and the fact that he was all alone pressed down on him like a great weight, until he sank into the sheets and pulled them tight over his head.

\--

Three days of anguish and endless unsatiated  _ need _ did terrible things to a person.  When those days were filled with questions, painful and confusing and still without answers -- when they seemed to go on for weeks?

They festered, coiled up like a spring ready and waiting to explode at any time.

Soren had lost his virginity, and that much he knew Zelgius would keep secret.  The rumors, however, he couldn't hide; and there was no wondering why every alpha he passed in the palace halls gave him a wide berth.

Rejection wasn't pretty on anyone, but it was especially ugly on a prince who was quite unused to it.

When Soren emerged from his quarters on the fourth day he was calm, collected, and dressed lightly.  With his face kept blank he made for the fighters' cells and flipped absently through his tome until his feet found their mark.

The lump in the bed told him his champion was a heavy sleeper; the entire castle had been up and about for at least an hour but his snoring could still be heard over the sound of sword practice in the ring behind.  Soren tapped the bars.

"Ike."

That figure jumped and sat up; blue hair stood in all directions and it took a moment for two eyes to open and squint at him.  "Oh, look. It's the prince himself."

"And none other."

"To what doth I owe-est mine own pleasure?"

"Don't try to sound smart.  You'll only embarrass yourself.  And for what it's worth, I've come to spar."

That got the fighter's attention.  "You… want to spar with me?"

"Certainly."

"Can you even wield a sword? You're so…" again he searched for polite words, every second grinding at the prince's patience.  "Little."

"I'm a mage, actually."

He snorted.  "Of course you'd be.  And I'm sure you're very good."

"Step out here and you shall find out."

"You want to spar against me with magic as your only weapon?"

"Mages face swordsmen on the battlefield every day."

"Well yeah, but that's not a very fair fight --"

"I'm not afraid.  Are you?"

Still rubbing his eyes, Ike slid out of his cot in only his trousers (a part of Soren was still in that stagnant, repetitive place, focused on the curves of his arms, the flex in his abdomen as he slid on a shirt, come  _ here _ damn Crimean bastard -- no.  Calm now). Soren snapped to catch the attention of a guard, who rushed over and unlocked the gate with lightning speed;  _ he _ knew better than to anger the prince, at least.

Ike paused at the weapons rack, bending to see if there might be another behind it or to the side of it.

"What is it?"

"Don't you guys have any sparring swords? You know, made of wood?"

"No."

"You think that's wise? Letting a barbaric prisoner into the ring, fully armed, fighting the only prince?"

Heavy, armored footsteps came up from behind Ike.  "A prince who is unable to defend himself does not deserve to be prince of Daein at all."

Soren glanced down into his tome again, briefly eyeing a tornado spell.  "Eloquently put, Bryce. Just like my father."

Bryce smiled back at him. "Good morning, your highness.  Are you eager to get back into the routine?"

"Eager to show this peasant his place."

Ike strode to the far end of the ring and lifted his sword.  "Peasants have more of a reason to fight than royalty. Besides, do you think anyone you've ever fought here has used their full strength against you?" He shifted and stretched his back.  "I hope nobody is betting on this."

Soren scoffed.  "Would  _ you _ like to bet?"

"Sure," Ike popped all the knuckles in one hand and swing his sword simply for show; perhaps the corner of his eye had caught sight of the accumulating audience of soldiers and castle staff.  "How about if I win, I leave for Crimea tomorrow."

The words 'lover's spat' caught Soren's ear and he tried not to sneer -- he was too much like his father in some ways, perhaps.  "And if I win, you'll come with me to lunch, and I'll get to watch you struggle to use a salad fork."

"Deal."

"Bryce, call it."

"The first fighter to become disarmed or incapacitated is the automatic loser.  There are no rematches. Those who die, die with dignity."

The crowd all shifted their gazes to the redheaded rider, but Ike and Soren never let their gazes wander.  They were firm, each unyielding, each steady in their stance as they waited for the announcement to end.

Bryce paused -- he, too, could have a flair for the dramatic when he wanted to -- and with a smile in his voice, shouted "Fight!"

And just like that, their stillness broke like a dam in a storm.  The prince wouldn't allow his opponent to get in a single step before knocking him off his feet with a gust of wind that snuck up under his boots and sent him flying.

Ike was smart enough to keep his hands tight on his sword, lest he lose the match within a moment, though he landed flat on his back with a gasp and no hands out to break his fall.  He wasn't expecting that.

Every moment, every time in the past 3 days Soren had spent lying in his bed wondering  _ why _ came back to him in a flurry of spells, that hurt in his heart mobilized to launch tornado after tornado.  The spirits could hardly keep up.

_ Make a fool out of me, I'll make a fool out of you _ .

Ike got up and took off running, hoping to get an attack in from the side -- Soren raised his hand, spoke his words with extra venom, and a white-hot bolt of lightning shot down and landed in the small space between them with a deafening boom.

When the light was gone, Ike was down again -- Soren smoothed the dust off his robes.  "Have you had enough?"

Ike staggered to his feet, shaking, hands still on his sword.  Soren paused, all in the name of good sportsmanship, to allow him a chance to move forward -- instead, Ike stood and studied him for a long moment.

"What? Do you forfeit?"

"Why do you keep moving your hands around like that?"

There was a wave of murmurs and chuckles in the small crowd.  Soren simply frowned. "I use them for my spells. Do they not have magic in Crimea?"

One, two steps forward, closer but he raised his hands, one still with his blade in it.  "No, no, they do. So you wave them around for the spirits or something, right?"

The prince quite nearly threw his tome.  "Yes. I channel my energy and the spirits to the palms of my hands through the spell, then direct the energy from there."

"Oh, okay."

Ike slid his sword into the sheath at his side.  Soren's grip on his tome tightened, the ancient words in his mind flashing.  Which spell? What sort of trick was this?

It was over in an instant.  Ike, quick as a lightning spell, was upon him, his hands pinning Soren's arms to the wall of the ring at his wrists.  He heard a thud as his tome toppled to the ground. 

"The prince has been disarmed and loses the match.  The fight goes to Ike, of Crimea."

If Soren hadn't been sneering before, he did then.

"Hey, don't get mad at me.  You told me your weakness." Ike, relieved, held his position and took a deep breath.  He realized in that moment that he'd not even gotten close enough to  _ really _ catch the prince's scent before -- then, it was unmistakable -- fury, absolute seething frustration, the faded musk of a finished heat, but the faint, fading but  _ distinct _ scent of another alpha on him.

_ Oof _ .  No wonder he was so angry.

He sighed and stared down at the prince, who still struggled to get away with all the might he had in him like a trapped animal.  "Look. I'll go to your lunch  _ and _ leave tomorrow, okay? It's only fair."

Soren responded diplomatically and hefted himself up by his wrists to kick his champion in the shin.


	4. Ike and the Salad Fork: A Conflict

Ike walked around the training grounds, not sure what to do with himself until his lunch with the prince. Guards and castle staff whispered amongst themselves while throwing nervous glances his way.

“Will the King allow him to just walk out?”

“The Prince did agree to the terms.”

“But he’s just an omega. His word isn’t worth much more than mine.”

One thing was for certain: this place is not like Crimea in the least. Or maybe this is just how royalty is. His father and Titania always stressed the importance of equality, do Daeins not believe in such a thing?

The same red headed knight as yesterday approached him with the barest hint of a smirk.

“The Prince request your attendance.” His head bowed the tiniest bit. “I will escort you to him.”

He wasn’t sure if the way to the prince was actually this far or if the knight was taking the scenic route, but it was a nice path. They walked past the royal garden which flowed with flowers and trees Ike had never seen. The halls they traversed were filled with paintings of past royalty and stained glass windows. Everything Ike saw was so new and extravagant. Especially when compared to the fort the mercenaries called home.

“His highness may not show it, but I believe he hopes you will change your mind and stay.”

“Is kicking someone in the shin how he shows his affection?” Ike cut off his own laugh when the knight threw a seething look over his shoulder. “Sorry.”

“I would advise you to keep your tongue in check. He may be an omega but he is still the King’s son and you would do well to mind that fact.”

When they finally arrived at an ornate door, the knight gave a quick knock before entering. As Ike stepped in he was instantly surrounded by the prince’s scent. Everything in the room smelled vaguely sweet, like the barest hint of sugars and spices that you chase but never fully catch. The prince lounged on a dark velvet couch and read what looked to be the tome he had yesterday.

“Did you get lost on the way?” His eyes never left the page as he waved Ike over.

“My apologies, I thought your guest might appreciate a small tour of the palace.”

“How kind of you Bryce,” he growled dryly as he shut his book and faced his champion.

Bryce gave a deep bow before he left the room, casting them into an awkward silence. Ike looked over the food that covered the platters on the small table between them and failed to see anything that required utensils.

“I thought you wanted to watch me using a fork?” He watched as Soren lightly filled a plate with chunks of bread and cheese.

“Bryce convinced me that I shouldn’t make you suffer since you did win our sparring match.” 

“Is he your bodyguard? He kind of reminds me of my father.” Ike grabbed a plate and quickly filled it up, catching Soren’s judgemental stare as he made a mountain of food.

“Bryce is my retainer. Zelgius is my bodyguard but that position may be opening up soon.” He glared daggers into the cheese in his hand before forcing a blank expression.

The awkward silence returned save for Ike’s loud chewing. How Soren managed to eat so quietly was beyond him.

“I understand your...reservations about our situation.” Soren seemed bound and determined to avoid eye contact. “I’ve never had the luxury of imagining marriage or falling in love. I’ve always been told that my duty is to produce an heir.”

“I always assumed a prince could do whatever he wants.” 

“Far from it.” A huff of a laugh escaped him before he finally met Ike’s eyes, “But I’m willing to compromise. I can’t promise that I will love you or you me but, if you’re willing to stay, I can promise I’ll give it a chance.”

“What exactly do you mean?” Ike stopped poking at his food, hanging onto every word.

“Stay.” The word was practically a plea. “Please. Give me a chance. Give me a week. After a week, if you want to leave I won’t stop you.”

“What are you expecting? It takes more than a week to fall in love.” Ike was half tempted to walk out but something about Soren’s demeanor spoke to him. He’s hurt and looking for relief.

“No, nothing that intense. I hope that...maybe...we can become...friends.” A deep blush set into his cheeks and he shied away from Ike’s eyes.

The two of them sat in the silence as Ike contemplated his options. 

“Could I get that room back?” 

Soren lit up with a smile -- tiny -- but it was the happiest Ike had seen him.

“I can do that. Thank you, Ike of Crimea.”

\--

The books in his guest room were so far above Ike’s head he wondered if Soren could read them. A not-so-gentle knock on the door made him jump and send the book in his hand flying. Bryce stepped in without waiting for a response and eyed the book laying on the floor.

“You do know those are for reading, correct? They are not projectiles.” 

“Do you always barge in on people?” Ike swiped the book off the floor and put it back in its place as Bryce rolled his eyes at the state of the bed.

“Do you never make your bed?”

Ike blinked hard and his mouth gaped like a dying fish while he searched for a come back. Bryce only gave him a moment to think before he began turning away.

“His highness request your attendance for lunch. He has also prepared a game of chess if you’d be so inclined.”

\--

Ike supposed this would be his life at this point. In the following days, the two of them shared lunch and would play a game of cards or chess. Ike shared stories of his mercenary family and Soren pointed out strategies in their games. If Soren had a free afternoon they would spar or walk the gardens.

After a week, Ike seemed to have forgotten to leave. 

“And then Boyd ran right into Shinon and the two of them tumbled into a giant puddle!” The two of them roared with laughter. They weren’t on perfect terms yet. Soren would say something that would make Ike huff at him or Ike would do something that had Soren groaning. 

Then there were moments like this, the two of them sharing a story or a joke. Day by day, they started to enjoy the other’s company rather than dread it.

\--

Even though Soren couldn’t understand Ike’s thinking on most things, he could appreciate the view of him. From his balcony, he had the perfect vantage point to watch the guards train and spar. The show only improved when Ike stepped onto the field. 

“Your highness, I-”

“Get out.” Soren had managed to avoid Zelgius since that dreadful morning and wasn’t about to give in now.

“I just want-”

“I don’t give a damn what you want.” When he finally did turn around, he sneered at the man. “You clearly don’t want me and that is all I need to know.”

Zelgius drew in a slow breath as he tried to keep his brow from furrowing. Bryce had already given him a tongue lashing weeks ago but it would pale in comparison to anything the prince himself had to say.

“It’s not that I don’t want you.” His hand itched to touch the prince but he held his arms firmly to his sides. “Can you honestly say that you wouldn’t change that night? Wouldn’t you have preferred things to progress outside of the haze?”

“Does it even matter what I want at this point?” Soren turned away and continued to watch the guards train. He caught sight of Ike waving up at him and gave a small wave back.

“Have you had any signs?” Zelgius’ voice wavered, nerves taking hold.

“Signs of what?” Soren turned back to watch his expressions and movements closely.

“Of possibly being with child. If you were, you would tell me. Wouldn’t you?” Soren had never seen the man look so nervous. He had bags under his eyes and his hair was flatter than usual.

“We only spent one night together.” 

“Sometimes, one night is all it takes.” His eyes were downcast, looking as defeated as could be. “I...will take my leave now, your highness.”

\--

_ Any signs? Like what? _

Soren’s head was spinning and butterflies took refuge in his chest. Despite laying in his bed, he still felt so mind-numbingly dizzy.

_ What if I am? All that progress with Ike is lost. I’ll be stuck with a child from a man that wants nothing to do with me. I would be a pregnant alpha-less omega. _

His hand ran over the expanse of his midsection but nothing seemed different. It was when he stood up that the dizziness turned on him. He retched as he shakily clambered to a bucket. Out of pain or out of fear, he wasn’t sure but tears welled in his eyes.


	5. "My life doesn't suck that bad", and other lies Soren tells himself

Soren stared at the walls of his room and ground his teeth.  Anxiety bit at his stomach like bees trapped in a jar, unable to escape -- the vomiting might have stopped, but the fear hadn't subsided.  It might not  _ ever _ subside.

He could still hear the sound of his bedroom door slamming shut, hear Zelgius muttering to himself as he fled.  The bees grew anxious and kicked around inside him.

One night with an alpha could  _ easily _ be enough to plant a seed; one that he would sow in the form of his life's ruin.  He hadn't been incorrect when he stated that he father simply wanted a strong heir and didn't care where it came from.

_ Zelgius _ , however.

The man woke up and looked at him like he'd found himself next to a hog --  _ ran _ in terror.  It wasn't the brand, at least that he knew, (he only wished his was as pretty as Zelgius', with its dark black lines) but that didn't make it any less of a problem.

Soren felt tears in his eyes as he recalled his father's words, from years ago when he'd approached his first heat.  He had no idea what was to come, having spent so much of his life surrounded by alphas, he'd dreaded it like a disease, wept in fear, and late night he'd found himself wandering the castle.

The lights had been on in his father's chambers, and with his curiosity piqued he stood on his toes to peer through the window.

His father had called a meeting with Bryce and Zelgius, the two closest guards of the royal family, alone.

"An omega in heat is like a spider," he began, and Soren felt a knot twisting in his throat.  "She doesn't care what she catches, so long as she ensnares some sort of prey. There is no sense of reason, not for her, and not for the one she manages to catch." The king inhaled deeply.  "Soren is my only child, and unfortunately for myself and for the kingdom he is an omega. He'll soon spin his first web, as is his nature -- and I need you both to ensure he keeps his purity, until he is old enough to be of use to the kingdom."

The prince had taken off running in tears that night, comforted only by the safety of his bed.

Now, his bed didn't even feel safe.  It felt rather like a spider web.

\--

Somehow he found himself in the guests' hall.  Wandering the castle alone at night still somehow brought him peace as it had when he was younger.

The guards saluted him with curious looks in their eyes, and he could have sworn he felt their gazes on his back as he turned the corner.

It was far too late to knock, so Soren slid inside and quietly shut the door behind him, taking in a deep breath.  Musk. Warmth. Security. He shook the thoughts out of his head and groaned.

The bed was soft enough, he pondered as he sat on the edge.  It was hardly a prison cell.

It was decidedly less comfortable when he found himself pinned against it with two hands around his neck; just tight enough to hold him still but growing tighter.

"Who the hell are you," Ike spat.

"Well, that's just unwise," Soren choked, and Ike sat back on his legs.

"What are you doing here? It has to be after midnight."

Soren rubbed his neck, wondered what the maids might say about finger shaped bruises on him, "It is."

"I thought you were one of the other fighters or something,"

"I could tell."

Ike stared him down again and made the prince shudder; he may never get used to that steady, piercing look.  "So what  _ are _ you doing down here?"

"I'm not sure," Soren admitted.  "I just couldn't stay in my quarters any longer, I suppose.”

"So you came to wake me up instead, huh?" It might have been offensive, if not for his smile -- in the dark room it was detectable only in his voice and made his words smoother.

"I never meant to wake you."

"Well, we can always stay up.  Me n' Boyd always used to stay up late when we were younger."

"Sure.  Let's stay up."

Silence.  They each looked at one another -- or where one another might be in the blackness -- and waited for something to be said.

Ike was not forthcoming and, taking advantage of one of the few opportunities he got to speak his mind, Soren began.  "Your people are mercenaries, correct?"

"Yeah."

"If you were to mate with someone you loved, would they have to be a fighter too?"

"Not everyone fights back at the fort.  We have healers too, and Rolf and Mist are too young so they just help out with other stuff.  Everyone has to cook and clean and wash laundry. All that stuff."

"Why?"

"Well not everybody has servants, you know."

Soren was quiet, until he spoke barely above a whisper.  "We've lived very different lives, you and I."

"Yeah, I guess we have.  It must be nice to be a prince, though."

"What would possibly be nice about it?"

"Well, all the money for one thing.  You've never had sleep for your dinner."

"Money doesn't buy you the things you have back at your fort, Ike.  And I'd dare you to not make a fool of yourself at one of those stuffy parties I have to attend."

" _ You _ ? At a stuffy party?" Ike laughed, "I'm sure you're the most popular guy there."

"One time, I was approaching my heat and I forgot to bring my scented shirt.  I was fairly popular  _ that _ day, but not for good reason."

" _ Oh _ .  Alphas?"

"Yes.  This one alpha from Crimea, someone's retainer or something, came up with all of his flowery words trying to impress me and practically pinned me against the wall."

"What did you do?"

"Luckily I brought my tome and blasted him out a window."

Ike fell onto his back laughing.  "Oh man! I'm actually jealous I can't go now.  That sounds amazing!"

Soren held a frown and looked at him.  The bees in his belly might be gone, but there was more than that eating at him.

And at the very least he wanted some answers.

"Ike, why did you agree to go to lunch with me? Why would you stay?"

"Hm." Ike sat in equally contemplative silence for a moment, seeming as curious as Soren was for the answer.  "I don't know. I guess it just seemed like you really needed a friend." Soren's only answer was a yawn, and Ike followed with one of his own.  "You want to sleep in here tonight?"

"Yes."

"Mkay, come here."

Awkwardly they shifted, moved blankets, kicked off a balled up sheet Ike had tangled himself up in -- but when Ike lay curled on his side, Soren slid in to lay in front of him easily, as if he fit there just right.

"Goodnight, Soren."

"Goodnight Ike."


	6. I guess you're kind of cute for an asshole

The next day Soren found he was still nauseous, like a small wave of discomfort in his heart. He poked at his breakfast and contemplated his options.

Telling Bryce would mean his father would know within the hour. Telling Zelgius would likely see them both in a panic. Telling Ike would risk losing one of his only friends.

_ You just had to spread your legs. You couldn’t wait for your champion. _

“Your highness,” a young serving girl bowed deeply at his side, “You’ve hardly touched your food. Is it not to your liking?”

“No, it’s quite alright. I’m just...not feeling well.” He twirled the fork in his hand, trying not to set off another round of rumors and whispers.

“Would you like to have the royal doctor called in?” She spoke softly, her hand instinctively going to touch his shoulder but stopping mid-air. 

“Yes, I would appreciate it. I will be returning to my room.”

“Of course your highness.” She bowed again before walking off toward a young page boy.

\--

“What ails you young one?” The elderly doctor crouched in front of Soren, who sat on his velvet couch. He had always been friendly and helped Soren through his first few heats with advice and home remedies. It was during his fourth heat that the doctor suggested having a trusted alpha scent him. 

“If I were to be with child, how would I know?” Soren kneaded his palm and bore holes into his coffee table.

“Well...um...morning sickness, fatigue, lower back pain, missed heats,” the doctor’s hand waved around in the air as he rambled the rest of his list.

“No. Not possible signs. How would I know for certain?” Soren could feel a headache coming on and worried that it may be another sign.

“Another omega, one who has had a child.” He cleared his throat and stood. “They seem to have an innate ability to tell when one another is with child. Do you believe yourself to be?”

“I...I don’t know.” 

\--

Soren searched the halls for anyone who looked like a mother. It took a minute but he finally found a woman who looked to be heavy with a child currently, carrying a tray of bread from the kitchen. 

“Excuse me.” 

His sudden appearance spooked the woman, she gave a small shriek and nearly dropped her tray.

“Your highness! My apologizes! I didn’t see you coming.” A heavy blush set on her face while she struggled to get her breathing back under control.

“I-” He stopped himself, debating if she was one to gossip and if it worth it to ask. “I was wondering if you could help me.”

“Of course your highness.” She smiled brightly at him, quickly looking him over.

“Do you...Have you had...um.” He blushed himself, not sure how to ask or even what to ask her. “You are a mother. Correct?”

“Did the baby bump give me away?” She giggled as she readjusted the tray in her hands.

“Is this one your first?” He watched her face closely and made sure not to reveal too much on his own.

“Oh no! This will be my fourth. I have a feeling this one will be a girl. It’s the first time my ankles haven’t swelled so much I had to find new shoes.” She beamed at him, tilting her head slightly. “Do you plan on starting your own family soon?”

“I do. Is it true that omegas can tell when another is with child?” 

“Absolutely! Something about the scent just seems so familiar yet..new. Why do you ask?” 

“Am I with child?” He didn’t mean for the question to come out so feeble but the fear crept up and grasped his throat. 

“I’m sorry your highness.” She frowned gently, sounding regretful enough for the both of them, “I’m afraid you’re not. Perhaps next time. Children truly are little miracles and Lady Luck is a very random mistress.”

\--

As soon as Soren made it back to his room, he sank to the floor and wept.

“Your highness?” Bryce knocked on the door, slowly cracking it open to peer inside. “Are you alright? Are you hurt?”

“No, I’m better than alright.” He laughed through the tears and smiled at his retainer. “I feel like I’ve been given a second chance. Could you please bring Ike up for our lunch?”

“Of course.” Bryce smiled gently before taking his leave.

\--

To Ike it seemed that every moment he spent with the Prince, they would sit a touch closer or blush a slightly deeper shade or speak a word more openly. He found himself looking so forward to their lunch that he would be on his way when Bryce would find him. His heart would flutter every time Soren gave him that tiny smile.

Occasionally, Soren would quietly enter his room, tap on his shoulder, and curl up once he scooted over. Sometimes they would talk until one of them drifted off but more often they silently enjoyed the warmth of each other.

It was the morning of one of those quiet nights that Ike truly took in the prince. His eyelashes fluttered as he dreamed, thin lips slightly parted and button nose twitching. He may be a spoiled monarch, but he certainly had his looks and his own special charm. 

The softest of knocks tapped on his door before it opened to reveal red hair and a curious face.

“Is the Prince with you?” Bryce whispered, peering into the dimly lit room.

“Yeah, he’s still asleep. Do you need him?”

“No, I was just checking. Enjoy your morning.” Bryce silently disappeared and closed the door with a smile. It was as if his attitude toward Ike was a direct reflection of his charge’s feelings.

“Is he gone?” Soren whispered, red eyes peeking over his shoulder. “He’s like a dog that is willing to follow the trail off a cliff.”

“Bryce isn’t so bad.” Ike chuckled as he stood up. When he threw a shirt on he could hear Soren hum disapprovingly. “If you keep that up I’ll think you still just want me here for my body.”

“Would you be wrong?” Soren smirked before bursting into a laugh as Ike gently smacked him with a pillow.

\--

At lunch their shoulders were nearly bumping with how closely they sat together. Soren’s fingers twitched at the idea of holding Ike’s hand, a truly foreign idea. He never expected himself to actually develop feelings for the Crimean but at this point, he wasn’t sure he could stop. He wanted nothing more than to lace their hands and kiss those soft looking lips.

When they chuckled at one another’s stories, their faces became so close, Soren could do little more than take in the scent of Ike. He couldn’t place his finger on it exactly but it was comforting. Even without the haze of his heat he wanted to lap at that scent. 

“Ike?” Soren’s voice was barely above a whisper while he gazed at Ike’s face.

“Yeah?”

“Would it be okay if...if we kissed?” Soren hated the way his face heated up so quickly his ears burned.

“I um...wouldn’t hate it. If we did. Um. Now?” When Soren met Ike’s eyes he saw that his tan skin had turned a bright red.

Soren nodded before moving his face closer to Ike’s. Gently they closed their eyes and smacked their foreheads together. They pulled away groaning and hissing at the sting.

“That was undignified.” Soren grumbled as he rubbed at the pain.

“Do you want to try again?”

Soren nodded before closing his eyes and allowing Ike to come to him. This time, lips met lips and Soren felt like a lightning spell had shot straight up his spine. The hair on the back of his neck stood up as he put more pressure into the kiss and weaved his fingers into blue locks.

Ike’s hand found his hip and rubbed tiny circles into his skin. The warmth that crept up his neck was so different to what he was used to, he worried he might be on fire. Not enough to pull away, in fact he moved closer. 

A tiny knock on the door and the sound of it opening was the only thing that drew them apart.

“My apologies your highness.” Bryce didn’t even have the courtesy to look embarrassed, in fact he looked smug. “Lady Agnes has arrived. Should I bring her in or have her wait for your summons?”

“Bring her in now.” Bryce bowed his head and disappeared behind the door again. Soren turned back to Ike with a tiny smile. “Will I see you again this evening?”

“Mkay.” Ike smiled back, planting a tiny kiss on Soren’s cheek before taking his leave.

Soren only had a few minutes to take the color out of his cheeks before his distant relative walked in. He had only met Lady Agnes a handful of times and could never remember exactly how they were related.

“Oh my darling nephew!” A tall woman with long dark hair swooped into the room with her arms opened wide. “Your father wrote to me that you are trying to produce an heir to the throne. He said that you would need all the help you can get.”

“Yes, that is correct.” He stood to greet her and was instantly wrapped in an overbearing hug.

“Well first things first, get rid of all this chicken.” She scowled at the food that covered the table. “You need to start eating red meat. You will never successfully bear an alpha if you eat nothing but white meat.”

“Bryce,” Soren called toward the door, “Tell the chef to prepare red meat from now on.”

“Yes your highness.” Loud footsteps quickly faded away from the door.

“Second, you must always be on top.” She nodded curtly to herself.

“Excuse me?”

“In bed. You must always be on top. Third, a cup of red wine before the act is always helpful.”

Soren rolled his eyes and took his seat on the couch, already feeling done with the conversation.


	7. we'll bang, ok?

His heat wasn't due for another four days.  Four  _ days _ .

Soren never had a heat come anything more than a day early -- and that was only once, on the carriage headed away from Mainal Cathedral, and only because he was ill from all the foreign food.  What's more, all had been absolutely normal the day before; he and Ike had pored over a book about beasts from far off lands that Agnes had sent him (he'd shelved all the baby care books for another time), they'd eaten dinner together, Soren had tended to some political garbage and accepted some invitation to yet another gala and then crept into bed with Ike.

Normal.

The prince contemplated all of these things as he lay on his side in bed beside Ike, as he had every night for many days, and felt that clawing in his belly telling him in no uncertain terms that he  _ had _ to be beneath him soon.  Ike, though he was fast asleep, seemed to agree with that -- his cock had been hard as stone against Soren's back since Soren had woken up at least 20 minutes prior.

The prince assessed his options.  He hadn't heard any footsteps in the halls except for the pair of regular guards passing by like clockwork every hour -- there was almost no light streaming in from the window at all.  No one would be awake for a while yet.

For once in his life Soren allowed himself not to think, reached behind his back and felt that hardness with his own hand.

_ Damn _ .

It was far too big.  There was absolutely no way that was going to fit _ in _ him or  _ around _ him in any way or shape -- so the prince took back his hand and set out to recalculate.

He might have had a chance to think more, if he hadn't felt Ike smiling against his neck.  "I didn't know you were awake."

"I'm -- it's only been a moment."

"Mmhm." Ike shifted just slightly and shuddered at the friction that little movement allowed him.  "You were feeling me up."

"I didn't know you were awake either."

"How long have you been groping me while I sleep?"

"Never -- !"

Ike, his arms already around Soren, simply pulled him close and squeezed him gently -- and in doing so he seemed to release all of the bustling, fierce anxiety out of him.  Only the constant dull ache that had been in his belly since he'd woken remained.

Ike's hand rested on Soren's hipbone for just an instant before it slowly, tentatively, moved down to tug at the waistband of his underwear.  He was good at pushing his boundaries, experimenting with how far he could push the prince, and as luck would have it, Soren was more than happy to accept his advance and slide his underwear down to his knees.

"Have you done this before?" Soren grasped his hands in the sheets and pressed back, again feeling that length against him as it throbbed.

"No," Ike mumbled, and pressed a kiss to the nape of Soren's neck.

"Shouldn't I be on my back?"

Swiftly Ike realized he'd have to move down to get the right angle behind his partner, and as he did he bit into the prince's shoulder and sucked in through his teeth.  He released him only when he was sure a satisfactory mark would be left. "I don't know, I like it like this. Don't you?"

It  _ was _ comfortable, there was no arguing with that.  All Soren had to do was lift his leg up and over Ike's, allow him all the access he could want, and try not to let himself shake too much.  That was the most difficult part.

Ike paused his attention on Soren's cock.  "What's wrong? Do you want to do this?"

"Yes," the prince said into his pillow.

"Why are you shaking?"

"... Cold."

He wasn't sure if Ike believed his lie at all, but even if he didn't he sat up to pull a thicker blanket -- which they'd both kicked around and nearly off the bed in their sleep -- up and over them.  "How's that?"

"Better."

"Good." Ike rolled his hips against Soren's back again, pressed his lips to the back of the prince's head.  "Now what's really bothering you?"

Frozen.  That ball of anxiety roared to life again like a fire with a bottle of oil thrown into it.  "What's the point?"

"What?"

"You're kind to me.  You --" he groaned. "Why are you doing this? What's the point, if you're just going to leave?"

"We were already going to make a baby," Ike returned to lap at the mark he'd left.

"That's one thing.  But you kissed me, in, in the courtyard you held my  _ hand _ ."

"You guys sure are backwards, huh."

"Maybe so.  But why would you do all of that, only to leave?"

Ike considered this for a moment.  "You can come with me."

Soren looked over his shoulder with wide eyes.  "Go with you? And what of my father?"

"He won't find us.  And if he chases after us into Crimea he'll start a war, he's not that stupid."

"He would.  He will." He saw Daein soldiers in black armor, flashes behind his eyes -- the family of mercenaries he'd never met but grown to care for would all be slaughtered as kidnappers of the prince.  "He'd march the entire army in if it suited his purposes." And with Zelgius at the head, no less.

For all the nightmare Soren saw, Ike didn't seem even slightly concerned.  He still ran his hands along the slight swell of Soren's hip as he thought aloud, "I'd bet we could take them."

"The entire Daein army?"

"Yeah.  We're pretty strong."

"You're a fool, Ike of Crimea."

"Mm, yeah.  Just hold still."

Ike said he'd never had another, and if he wasn't lying the instincts driving him were acute and powerful -- every time he bit down on Soren's neck a little blood and a little fear seeped out of him until all that was left was need.

Soren  _ had _ done this before, and yet when he closed his eyes and thought of it he only remembered bits and pieces: flashes of green eyes looking down at him, pain, searing pain as he'd panicked and tried to pull them apart; there were things, even about his own body, that no one had ever had the courage to explain to him.  It was all an alien, surreal blur in his mind. Hardly helpful.

But Ike was nothing like Zelgius.  Zelgius had been cautious, almost timid like he might break Soren if he moved the wrong way -- Ike was thrusting into the soft skin between Soren's thighs, spreading the slick he'd been producing since he woke up with careless abandon.

Soren breathed out, then in, and seemingly reading his mind just as he had in the ring that first night, Ike obeyed.  He adjusted himself, ran a hand down the side of a soft, smooth leg and slid himself inside Soren slowly.

It fit.  And there was no pain then, no tense urgency or anxiety growing inside him, only the sensation of being absolutely filled (had he been so  _ empty _ before?) and shivering despite the blankets on top of them.

As his only warning Ike bit him again and held on as he began to move -- lazily, savoring each jolt of pleasure and heat as it hit, but filling him absolutely every time his rolling hips moved forward.

Like a warm blanket all around him Ike's scent surrounded and then filled him; musk, sweat, only the slightest scent of lavender (they'd sat in the garden taking turns reading off entries on the mythical beasts, and Ike had run his fingers over all the fresh lavender stalks with a smile on his face) sent a shiver down his spine.  Before Soren knew it he'd given up the last of his dignity and was arching back into Ike's thrusts, urging him to go faster (whether with words or with simply moans he wasn't sure, the haze was setting in).

Ike only had to barely reach around and grab his cock when Soren came onto his own belly and the sheets -- if he'd known it could be so easy and such a relief he might have dared to ask Ike for this earlier.  Ike lasted only another moment before hitting that precipice himself and groaning into Soren's ear.

On their sides they stayed, and Soren felt the telltale twitch inside him from Ike beginning to knot him.  He inhaled that perfect scent deeply once more, and buried his face into the arm that Ike snuck under his head.


	8. Pregnancy Scare 2: The Preganing

By time his heat ended, Soren was covered in hickies and tiny bite marks. The thing that caught his eye the most though was the bite that Ike left on his neck. It felt as though he could feel his alpha’s emotions.

_ His  _ alpha.

Soren couldn’t help the giddy smile as his fingers gently ran over the mark. He didn’t even notice Bryce enter the room until the man was standing behind him in the mirror.

“Did he mark you?” Concern morphed his retainer’s face in the reflection. “Does he plan on staying?”

“He promised to stay until the baby is born.” His eyes turned downcast, remembering the pleading for Ike to stay longer. He had tried to bargain and beg for more time but no matter the prize, Ike remained firm. “He insist that he must return to his family afterwards.”

“Mmm. He’s loyal to his family. As anyone should be.” Bryce laid a heavy hand on Soren’s shoulder and gave him a sad smile. “Would you not refuse to leave your father? Me? Zelgius? He has a family that is waiting for his return. He must return to them, and you must stay here. I know it hurts young one, but this is simply how life is.”

\---

At some point during their lunch, they both forgot about the food in front of them and chose to taste each other instead. Ike’s hands moved up and down Soren’s side as their tongues pressed together. Thin pale hands weaved through blue locks and tugged gently to egg on his mate. An airy moan escaped the prince as one of Ike’s hands found a way into his pants and gently touched him.

Ike worked the ties of Soren’s trousers loose and slipped them off. He trailed kisses from his mate’s face down his chest and over his belly. Those lips caressed the meaty side of Soren’s thigh before lightly going over his hard cock.

Soren tangled his fingers into Ike’s hair as he encouraged him to keep going. To take him deeper.

The two of them were so lost in one another that they never heard Bryce’s knock but everyone was made aware of him entering the room after the started shout that echoed through the hall.

\---

As time passed, Soren began to worry he may not be pregnant but then worried more that he may be. The sooner he produces a child, the sooner his mate will leave. But on the other hand, the longer Ike stays, the harder it will be to let him go.

With a long suffering sigh, Soren hoist himself out of bed and picked up one of the books Lady Agnus had left him on child rearing. At first he nonchalantly flipped through the pages but quickly realized how much work would actually go into taking care of this baby.

Whole passages spoke about what one must never do if they want their child to remain healthy and avoid the plague. If you do this, your baby will perish. If you do that, your baby will never reach childhood. List after list, it simply didn’t feel like the chances to lose the child would end.

Soren shut the book with a snap and quickly left the room in search of an actual person with actual experience. Perhaps the book is overly dramatic.

Near the kitchen, Soren found the same woman that had given him such hope and prayed that she would be able to provide him with peace again. Her belly was no longer swollen but she looked more tired than humanly possible.

“Oh! Your highness,” she gave him a small smile and a deep bow, “Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Yes. I have a few questions I was hoping you could answer.” He looked her over and noticed the dark bags under her eyes. “You look tired. Has the new baby been that exhausting?”

“Afraid so.” Her smile was sloppy but she seemed happy enough. “But I much rather her keep me up at night than not. She had stopped kicking for a few days and I feared I had lost her.”

“Lost her?” Soren’s mind reeled as he realized it wasn’t just after the baby arrived that it was in danger. Why hadn’t a single person told him how hard actually doing this would be? Not one person had prepared him for the chance that he could lose the baby. That if you look away from it for even a moment, it will get itself hurt. That it must be fed every two hours.

“Your highness, are you okay?” Her hands hovered around him, desperately wanting to console him but not wanting to risk losing a limb. At that moment, Soren wanted little more than his own mother to answer his questions.

“I’m not ready.” He used what little control he had to keep his voice even and his body from shaking. “I don’t know how to deal with a child. I’ve never even seen a baby, how could I possibly have one of my own?”

“This may be too bold of me but, would you like to hold my daughter?”

Soren could do little more than nod before she rushed off into a back room. When she returned her arms were filled with a bundle of what looked like blankets. Save for the little chubby arm that reached up toward her face.

“Her name is Natasha.” The woman smiled brightly at the child before turning her eyes to Soren. “Are you ready to hold her? She’s a little heavy.”

As she passed the bundle into Soren’s arms, she directed him on how to position her. Once he was settled, he looked into the bright round face that stared up at him.

“I expected more crying.” Soren whispered, terrified he may provoke the tiny creature.

“Oh trust me, she has a healthy set of lungs. She must like you. You said that you had a few questions?”

“Oh, yes.” He tore his eyes away from the baby’s face to watch the woman’s. “A relative of mine recently left a few books for me. About raising children. Are babies really so fragile that you can’t truly put them down?”

“Absolutely not.” She hid her smile behind her hand but the giggle was still out in the open. “If they were, they would never learn to walk. They’ll fall down and maybe cry but ultimately, they’re fairly resilient and will just get up and keep trying.”

Soren ran his thumb over Natasha's chubby cheek and watched as those slobbery lips formed a loose smile.

“What about sickness? The book had whole chapters on all the ways babies could get sick.”

“Unfortunately, babies are just as likely to get sick as the rest of us. Just try to keep them away from anybody who is sick.”

When Soren gave the baby back, his arms felt so empty. Something in his nature demanded he have a tiny one to hold. One he wouldn't have to give back.

“Is the baby fever returning?” Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she watched the prince sigh at his empty arms.

“I suppose so.”

\---

“So?” Bryce watched the prince like a hawk as he left the doctor’s room in the castle.

Soren quietly shook his head as he tried to keep his breathing even. After holding Natasha, he craved the chance to have his own little bundle.

“My sympathies, your highness.”

_ Two heats, two alphas, and not a single baby to show for it. _ His face burned in frustration as he marched back to his room.

\---

“My King,” Bryce regret buildt up inside his gut as he bowed, “the Prince has just found that he is not with child.”

“How disappointing.” Ashnard sneered, rolling his eyes before beckoning a servant over. “Inform every general that the prince is in search of a new champion. Should there be any interested parties, they will report to me.”

“Pardon the interruption my King, but perhaps I could be the replacement the Prince is looking for.” Dakova, a general under Petrine, bowed to the king before saluting Bryce.

Ashnard raised a brow at the general before a smirk took over his face.

“Disregard my previous order. Bryce, bring me the Prince.”

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments bring us life <3


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